The Fool
by Anyia
Summary: Karra Tabris - a female City Elf rogue - is confused by Alistair's affections, and a drunk Zevran helps her sort things out. Rated T for minor hints at sex.


"You've been thumbing that flower for a while now."

Karra Tabris rolled her eyes as she recognized her own words spoken with an amused slur and a thick Antivan accent. "Have you nothing better to do than listen in on my conversations, Zev?"

"When you are having your conversations with Alistair right across the fire from me, it can be very difficult to _not_ listen," Zevran chuckled as he sat down beside her. "And what is our fearless leader doing all the way over here instead of joining our merry-making by the fire?"

Karra smiled wryly as she eyed the rest of the party gathered around the campfire. Leliana was singing a bawdy song that was making Alistair's ears blush, while Oghren was offering Wynne more samples of the ale he brewed himself. Sten and Morrigan, as always, had their backs to the entire scene, with the former keeping a watchful eye around the perimeter of the camp and the latter brooding over a grimoire.

Zevran himself was holding on to a flask of ale, and it was only then that Karra noticed how much he reeked of it. "I don't drink," she said, flatly. Ever since Shianni had picked the habit up, Karra had sworn that she'd be "the sober one" who ensured that her drunkard cousin got home in one piece.

"Oh?" Zevran cocked his head to one side. "That is really too bad… though I can hardly see how toying with a rose could be more fun than drinking good ale."

"I wasn't…" Karra looked down at the flower in her hand. Alistair gave it to her that very afternoon, and though she had said some things to let him know she appreciated it, she honestly didn't know what to make of it. She felt sorely tempted to fling the rose away from her, _far_ away from her. In truth, she felt like throwing it away a dozen times after it was given to her. It was a wonder she hadn't done so yet.

Zevran chuckled, taking a sip from the flask in his hand. "Are you having love problems, my sweet?"

Karra scowled. "And what would an Antivan son of a whore know about love?"

Zevran made a mock pouting face at her, causing her to snicker despite her embarrassment. "Ah, you wound me! I am not as cold as you make me out to be." Then his lips spread into a knowing smirk. "You _know_ I am not."

Karra flushed, turning away from the assassin. She had slept with him _once_, and only once, if only to relieve some of her tension. She swore to herself that she would never do it again. That didn't, however, deter her from becoming friendly with Zevran over time, especially since she found that they had more in common than she initially thought.

Zevran put an arm around her and shook her gently. "Ah, come now, do not act so shyly around me. I apologize. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

Karra sighed, lightly nudging him with her elbow to acknowledge his apology. "Really, though, you know nothing of love. All you know is sex."

The assassin paused. "Mmm. True," he said, finally. "But I do know you have been touching that flower ever since our good friend Alistair gave it to you, and you have been watching him the entire time after that."

At the mention of the man's name, Karra's eyes wandered off to him once more. Leliana had finished the song and Alistair seemed to have recovered from it, but his face was still flushed from the alcohol. Karra felt the color rising to her cheeks in a similar fashion, but this time she didn't bother turning away to hide it. "He… confuses me. That's all."

Zevran chuckled. "He _confuses_ you? From what I overheard, he was very straightforward."

Kara let out an exasperated sigh. "That's not what I meant. His words weren't confusing. His actual intentions are."

"Ah." Zevran smiled as he leaned back against the tree behind them, drawing his free hand away from her and tucking it behind his head for support. "You mean that you are afraid that all these confessions of love and his supposed 'innocence' are just his way of tricking you into trusting him, and that he will use you and hurt you when he gets the chance. Yes?"

"Yes—no. I… I mean…" She set the rose down beside her and turned to face Zevran. "He's _human,_ Zev. What am I supposed to think?"

Zevran shrugged. "As far as humans go, our companions here are quite respectable, no? Or am I to believe that they have yet to earn your trust?"

Karra turned away from him and hugged her knees. "Have you forgotten what I told you? About what happened before I became a Warden?" She told him about it one of those late nights when they kept watch together, even though she never intended to discuss her past with anyone before. She was so happy to be in the company of another elf after such a long time that she told him how she got to where she was, wedding, rapists, conscription and all.

Zevran leaned forward and placed an arm around her once more. "I remember," he murmured, letting her rest her head against his shoulder. "But the humans who did you and your family wrong are dead, no? You saw to that yourself."

Karra nodded slowly. By the smell of ale on him, Zevran should have been somewhere between tipsy and stone drunk, but he seemed to make more sense now than he ever had while sober.

"Humans are not exclusively cruel. Just as elves are not exclusively good," Zevran continued. "And these humans who have gathered to aid you – they are the good sort. And the attractive sort, if I may say so myself." He grinned at her and gripped her shoulder tighter. "I doubt they would wish to harm you any more than I would."

Karra smirked. "That would have been a nice sentiment, but you're an assassin. You _would_ harm me if you were paid enough coin."

Zevran clucked his tongue at her and placed a finger on her nose. "And here I thought I was the one who had problems dealing with trust and friendship. I suddenly feel sorry for Alistair."

Karra swatted his hand away from her face. "You? Feel sorry for Alistair?"

"I may know nothing of love, but _everyone_ in this camp can see how devoted he is to you." He leaned in so close to her that his lips were practically brushing against hers as he spoke. "He professes his appreciation for you and gives you a lovely gift, and yet here you are in the arms of a man who fairly recently tried to kill you. I am not so blind as to not notice the glares he throws in my direction. Like the one he is throwing at me now."

Karra made to turn her head to see for herself, but Zevran gently gripped her chin with his thumb and forefinger to prevent her from doing so. "And yet he does nothing to harm me, because he knows that you care about me – as a friend or otherwise." Zevran smirked and released her. "And just look at you, distressed at the thought of hurting his feelings. Why not be honest to yourself and admit that you really _do _care about him, hmm?"

Karra pulled away from Zevran and smacked him on the arm. "And why should I listen to an inebriated Crow who rarely ever thinks about anything other than sex? When I need advice about _honesty_ I'll go talk to Wynne."

Zevran laughed, raising his flask to her. "Well, they _do _say that alcohol brings out the worst in people."

Karra frowned at the flask and stood up. She glanced toward Alistair once more, catching him glaring at Zevran for a split-second before he hastily turned away. And she felt a smile creep upon her face - that smile that Alistair never failed to get out of her no matter how rotten her mood was. And it no longer bothered her the way it usually did.

She picked the rose up, caressing its petals with her fingertips, and turned to walk toward the campfire. She had only taken a few steps when she looked over her shoulder and smiled at the drunken assassin. "Thanks, Zev," she said, finally leaving him to his alcohol.

Zevran held the flask up to his lips, his eyes never leaving Karra as she made her way to Alistair. Whether she was going to admit how she felt or not, Zevran knew she had somehow come to grips with her feelings for the ex-Templar, and that he had helped her do so.

And that probably meant she would eventually stop spending so much time with him. No more playful banters and occasional stolen caresses while training her in the ways of the assassin, no more volunteering to keep watch at the same time just to sneak in some time to discuss certain things about their party that would shame even Morrigan.

"Ah, Zevran," the assassin sighed, lazily extending his arm to pour the remaining ale out on the grass beside him. "You are a fool."

* * *

_This fic was originally posted (without a title) at Swooping is Bad, an Alistair-centered LJ community. Swoopers, if any of you are reading this, please refrain from revealing who I am or what my LJ username is. I wish to remain anonymous here. Thanks!_


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